


Be My Solid Ground

by Abbie



Series: Sleeping With A Friend [5]
Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-24
Updated: 2015-01-24
Packaged: 2018-03-08 20:28:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3222374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abbie/pseuds/Abbie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever may be changing in Tommy and Felicity's relationship, they are first and foremost friends, and when Felicity needs Tommy, he will always be there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be My Solid Ground

**Author's Note:**

> And we take a momentary break from the intense makeouts to remember that Tommy and Felicity are best friends before they are anything else, and to move Oliver a little more out of the background...

"Man, are you shitting me right now?" Tommy pressed his fingers over his broadening grin, then smoothed his palm over his face and back into his hair, pressing the phone to his ear like he could have misheard such good news.

Tinny and far away— _for now_ —Oliver laughed, edged giddy and excited. “Yeah, buddy, this is happening. Mom’s signing the paperwork on Monday to put the building in my name.”

Tommy laughed, disbelieving joy in the back of his throat. “Jesus Christ, Ollie, how the hell did you convince her?”

"I almost don’t know," Oliver exhaled, his nerves coming in clear. "I just—I really want this, Tommy. I finally feel like I can _do_ something, you know? Make something _mine_. Do it right. I just—I just started talking and couldn’t _stop_ , and I was telling her about all the research I’ve been doing, about current trends and financial plans, interior designers, promoters, just… _everything_.”

"Holy shit," Tommy breathed, shifting deeper into the embrace of his couch, staring blindly at the dark TV screen on the wall. "Holy _shit_. This is real. You’re gonna open a club. Dude, you’re coming _home_.”

"Yeah," Tommy’s chest tightened, unsure if it was static or emotion that roughened Oliver’s voice. "Yeah, I am. Like… two months. Maybe three."

"Wow." Tommy tugged on his hair, still grinning stupidly. "Man, you gotta let me help you pick out a place here. I don’t think there’s any vacancies in my building, or I’d get you in in a second. But trust me, you focus on getting your project off the ground and let me compile a list of apartments, condos—townhomes, whatever." He sat forward again, head down and elbows propping on his wide-spread knees. "And obviously you’re crashing in my guest room until we find something. But you do the dream, man, just leave the grunt work to me."

"Yeah, okay," Oliver agreed, sounding thoughtful.

Tommy laughed again, helpless to the swooping _happiness_ in his chest. Oliver was coming back to Starling. For good. “I’ll find you a place fit for a Queen.”

Oliver groaned. “Fuck, there it is, I was waiting for that pun.”

Snickering, Tommy bounced his leg, already planning calls to realtors and agents. “Like I could pass that up?”

Oliver just laughed at him—and was interrupted by a muted beeping.

Pulling his phone from his ear, Tommy frowned at the screen as it alerted him to a new text from Felicity. “Hey man, hang on a second, I need to check a text so sorry if I fat-finger some buttons or whatever.”

"You should really work on your fingering technique," Oliver snarked back, and Tommy rolled his eyes, smirking as he tapped the "read" button.

 **Felicity:** _Are you busy right now?_

Tommy’s smile slipped away and he swore softly under his breath.

If Felicity wanted something from him—for him to call her, to come over, to pick up dinner and a movie, whatever—she just asked. Friendly but cutting to the chase, usually with an emoji or two.

She only got overly polite, hedging around, when something was wrong. When she was upset, she instantly defaulted to insecurity, to being afraid to be bothersome, or needy, or clingy. So she reflexively minimized whatever was going on by trying to suggest she was fine, that whatever she needed wasn’t a big deal—that she didn’t want to intrude or impose or be demanding.

And right now? _That_ text? Something was definitely wrong.

Tommy closed the text and lifted the phone back to his ear, lips flattening. Tone solemn and a little urgent, he said, “Listen, Oliver, I gotta go.”

"Huh?" Oliver startled. "Everything okay, man? You sound…"

"Yeah," Tommy sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. His stomach tightened; he couldn’t decide if he felt okay or not explaining. After a second of biting his lip, he added, "It’s Felicity. Something’s up and she needs me."

There was a beat of silence, and something mean and defensive in Tommy braced for some crack about being whipped, or an insult to Felicity.

Instead, Oliver just hesitantly asked, “She okay?”

Tommy blinked, surprise and relief spreading cool in his chest. “I don’t know. She texted, but I’m gonna head over to her place. I just—got a bad feeling.”

"Alright, yeah, man, go. Just shoot me a text later, if you can. Let me know nothing major bad is happening."

Tommy smiled again, small and grateful, already launching to his feet and heading to his bedroom to collect his jacket, wallet, and keys. “Thanks, bud. And listen, we’ll talk more later about everything. I’m so fucking excited for you, Ollie.”

He laughed, softer and more hopeful. “Thanks, Tommy. Me, too. Now go check on your girl.”

They hung up, and Tommy jangled his keys in his hand and headed for the door.

—

Tommy let himself in through Felicity’s front door, dropping his keys in his pocket and shucking the camel-colored leather jacket to hang on the hook inside the door. “Felicity?”

There was no answer, and he frowned. Was she not at home? He probably should have called, or at least texted her back before drving over, but all he could think about after reading her message was getting to her.

Making whatever was wrong better, if not okay.

Tommy headed into the apartment, down the hall, pausing to look into both the kitchen and living room. They were empty and dark.

He reached Felicity’s bedroom, the door just slightly ajar, and spread his fingers by the knob, pushing it slowly open with raised eyebrows.

Felicity lay on the bed, atop the covers on her side, back to the door and knees curled up. The room was dark but for the lamp on her bedstand.

"Felicity?"

She didn’t respond, and he moved around the end of the bed, the fist of his heart loosening with exhaled relief as he saw her eyes were closed and her iPod was in her hand, earbuds in her ears. He looked longer and frowned, realizing the skin around her eyes was puffy, lashes damp and spiked, makeup-free cheeks blotchy, the end of her nose red.

Worry curling back in his gut like a fickle cat, Tommy leaned down and gently tapped two fingers to the back of Felicity’s hand.

Her eyes flew open and she inhaled on a startled squeak, one hand ripping the earbuds free and the other propping her weight as she sat up in a hurry. “Tommy! Wh—when did you get here?”

Her voice was raw. Whatever had upset her had made her cry, hard. “A few minutes ago. I called your name a couple times, but.” He gestured to the iPod.

Felicity frowned down at it, switching it off and winding the cord of her earbuds around it. “I wasn’t expecting you. You didn’t call or text, so I figured you were busy or something.” She fidgeted uncomfortably in her Scrabble-tile pajama pants and teal cotton cami. She wouldn’t meet his eyes, tucking her hair behind one ear and absently spinning the industrial bar piercing the rim. “You didn’t have to come all the way over here. I’m sorry if I interrupted your night.”

Chewing the inside of his cheek, Tommy sighed through his nose and gently touched his fingertips beneath her chin. She looked up at him reluctantly, eyes overly blue in the reddening. “Felicity, there was nowhere more important to be than here.”

Her eyes fluttered closed, brows screwing up as she bit at her lower lip.

"Hey," Tommy gently tugged her lip free from her teeth with his thumb, bending to drop a quick, chaste kiss to the abused flesh. Sitting down beside her on the bed, he slid one hand across her shoulders and then under her hair, pressing his thumb and fingers into the muscles at the base of her skull. "Tell me what happened?"

She laughed, humorless and a little bitter, hands twisting together in her lap. “Mom called.”

Tommy winced and scooted closer, pulling her into his side. She followed unresisting, laying her head on his shoulder. “I’m sensing that did not go well.”

Felicity scoffed. “No, it did not. It started out like usual, same small talk strained pleasantries as ever.” She sighed, ribs expanding under his arm, against his side. “But you know how Mom gets. Ugh, and how _I_ get when she gets like that.”

Tommy had witnessed the Great Surprise Visit from Donna Smoak two years ago. It had been a view into the way even a parent and child who definitely did love each other could hurt each other almost as badly as Tommy and Malcolm Merlyn had spent twenty years brutally perfecting. “I do.”

"I don’t know why I keep trying to get through to her, to make her understand that I’m—I’m not _her,_ I’m not _like_ her, but she just doesn’t get it, she doesn’t _want_ to get it!” Felicity was on the verge of crying again just rehashing, and Tommy swallowed hard, squeezing her and turning her a little so he could look into her face. She looked up at him, expression miserable and tired and low-burning angry, hard chips of hurt in her eyes behind the sheen of tear. “She brought up Dad, because of _course_ she did.”

Tommy didn’t know what to say. He just swiped a thumb under her left eye, smudging away the moisture gathered on her lashes.

"She had to turn it all around, make it about _her_ , and how she sacrificed everything for me but there’s nothing of me in her,” Felicity’s voice went hot and low with hurt and anger, “and how I’m so much like _him_.”

"You’re not," Tommy murmured fiercely, cupping her cheek. "You are not like him, just because he was smart like you."

Felicity looked away, hand coming up to wrap around Tommy’s wrist. “I was such a bitch, Tommy. She was out of line, but the things I said to her…” She inhaled, shuddery, lips trembling. “I _hate_ who I am when I fight with her. I just… I hate it.”

"Hey, no." Tommy brought up his other hand to cradle her face completely, leaning back a little as his thumbs stroked her cheekbones. "Don’t do that. You and your Mom hurt each other sometimes, but you love each other. You’ll apologize, you’ll forgive each other. But don’t say you hate yourself okay?"

She sniffled, and still wouldn’t look at him.

"Felicity." His voice was sure and insistent, and he waited patiently until she met his eyes. "You’re not a bitch. And please don’t hate yourself. I love you, okay?" He leaned in and pulled her face a little to him, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead. "I love you, exactly who you are. I wouldn’t change you for a second."

She cracked a weak half-smile. “You’re biased.”

He shook his head at her, lips curling softly. “Yeah, I am. I’m also right.” She opened her mouth, no doubt to protest, but he cut her off. “Look, you don’t have to believe it. Let me believe it for you, okay? Trust _me_ to believe it. Can you do that?

Felicity stared at him, searching his face with a look so quietly _warm_ it filled his bones. Swallowing, she licked her lips and nodded between his palms. “I can do that.”

Tommy smiled. “Good.”

He leaned in to kiss her again, lips soft and gentle against hers, before pulling away and slipping his hands from her face. Leaning down, he unzipped the sides of his motorcycle boots and toed out of them before sitting back up and scooting further back onto the mattress. “Come on. Come cuddle with me.”

Felicity smiled at him in wry amusement, then turned to deposit her iPod on her bedside table. “You are _so_ cuddly.”

He lay back against her pillows, holding his arms open to her. “It’s my curse.”

She stretched out and settled against his chest, one of her hands on his stomach, cheek resting over his heartbeat. She sighed, “And my terrible burden.”

Kissing the top of her head, Tommy chuckled. “Sorry, Smoak. You’re stuck with me and my cuddly ways forever.”

She fell quiet for a moment, fingers tracing thoughtless circles between his sternum and navel. He let the touch soothe him as he stared up at her shadowy ceiling, almost sliding into a content doze when she spoke softly.

"Tommy."

"Yeah, Felicity?"

"Thank you."

He smiled, stroking his fingers through her curls. “Any time. Every time.”


End file.
